Sherlock Holmes - The Lone Wolf
by IamNOTObsessed4444
Summary: People with guns are dangerous. Highly intelligent people are dangerous. People with fear are dangerous. Combine all three, and Sherlock Holmes may have found his equal. What happens when he finds out that he's the target?
1. Introduction

**Introduction**

"Well I know that you won't shoot me."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Well generally speaking you're not expected to understand how any of this works mainly because you're still a young lady, but what people don't see in girls like you is intellect. Take your shoes, they are old and worn out, yet you still wear them, and before they can get to that kind of state you would grow out of them, unless you wore them so often that you didn't notice the difference. The only reason you would wear the same shoes so often was if you went to a school of some sort, in your case a private school, understandable due to your level of knowledge on basic facts that you will learn in school. You still know these things because you stayed at school for a long period of time, therefore you were reminded constantly. You got used to taking orders from people, so much so that when you left school you didn't know what to do. You didn't have a lot of money which I also noticed from your shoes. You wore them in and out of school judging from the state of them; meaning you didn't have many other shoes to wear, you obviously couldn't afford to rent anywhere, so when you saw an opportunity to do something that would keep you busy, you took it."

"You got all that from my shoes?"

"That and the fact that your finger is nowhere near the trigger, which shows a lack of self-confidence; or you just don't want to shoot me."

"Of course not, the gun's not loaded, that would be embarrassing, wouldn't it?"

"So the question now is; why would you carry a gun that isn't loaded?"


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

John Watson sat at the table, updating his blog when Sherlock walked in and stood behind him, studying the screen.

"What's that?"

"It was our last case."

"It was boring; no one wants to hear about that." Sherlock complained as he threw himself onto the couch

"It was actually quite interesting, the only reason you found it boring was because it was over quickly."

"Well it was always going to be him, wasn't it?"

"Yep, but I guess he got what he deserved."

"Of course, he killed a man."

"Not the killer, the victim!"

"What?"

"He was just protecting the one he loved."

"Why?"

"Because… oh forget it, it's like talking to a robot."

Shortly after Johns' remark, the doorbell rang. John left the room to answer, and a few minutes later he called up to Sherlock.

"It's just a friend at the door; I'll be back in a little while"

Soon after the door slammed shut, Sherlock reached over to the table and took John's laptop. As he sat it down in front of him, he peered over the top of it, out of the window and saw something that made his eyes widen and his brain think that the worst was about to happen. Something that he couldn't help but just stare at until he snapped out of his thoughts and jumped up from his seat. He saw John Watson being led down the street by someone. They were around the same height as him, wearing a black hoodie with the hood up, black jeans and black trainers, and they were carrying a gun. Sherlock ran down his stairs, jumping the last five and throwing his door open, before bolting down the street in the direction that John and this stranger had gone. As he reached the bottom of the street he heard the dreaded sound of a gunshot. He looked to his left and saw in the distance the figure dressed in black sprinting away. His eyes then focused on John, leaning on a wall, grasping his shoulder and clearly in pain. Sherlock ran over to him.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine" John managed to reply, although he wasn't exactly fine.

"What happened there?"

"What does it look like? She shot me!"

Wincing in pain, John removed his hand from his left shoulder to reveal the wound. Sherlock began to stare intensely at it.

"What?" John inquired

"Isn't this the same shoulder you got shot in during the war?"

"Yes."

"But why your shoulder? Why not a vital organ or something?"

"What?!"

"If someone were to shoot you, people generally go for either the head or the chest, that's more likely to kill you. So why your shoulder?"

"Could I possibly have some help please?"

"Well you're a doctor"

"Yes, but I can't fix myself, I only have one arm working at the moment"

"We don't have time, she could go anywhere!"

John ignored Sherlock's remark, and reached into his pocket. He then pulled out a piece of cloth and a piece of paper. Blue paper that was folded up"

"What's that?"

"It's…"

John had no idea what the note was for, but he was a doctor. He knew what the cloth was for

"She… she gave me a bandage."

"What?"

"A bandage, she brought a bandage."

"What's that other thing?"

"I'm not sure" John grumbled as he attempted to put the bandage round his shoulder single-handedly. "But if I could have a little help with this, it would be great."

Sherlock helped John put on the bandage; then took the bit of paper from his hand. He unfolded it and read out what it said:

"_Come and get me."_

John and Sherlock both looked at one another.

"Well"- Sherlock began, "This should be fun."


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Sherlock stood in front of John, deep in his thoughts before beginning his interrogation.

"So the cloth, that was obviously for the wound, so she knew when she came here what her motive was. But why didn't she just shoot you there and then? She still would have probably been able to get away, and there's a good chance that I wouldn't have seen her. And why would she give you a bandage after shooting you? Why is she being so obvious?"-

"Sherlock"- John tried to speak up, but was drowned out by the sound of Sherlock's never ending insults

"This might just be the stupidest criminal we've dealt with in a long time, so predictable; and threatening you with a gun? Like she couldn't think of anything better to do"-

"Sherlock" John finally managed to get a word in edgeways. "She gave me these before she shot me. She put them in my pocket and told me not to look at them until she was gone."-

"What? You did as she said?"

"If I had looked at them there and then she probably would have shot me."

"She shot you anyway!"

"Well I didn't want to get shot twice believe it or not!"

"So what about the note?" Sherlock continued as if they hadn't just had an argument

"What? Come and get me... you think she's taunting us?"

"Why would she taunt _you_? You're hardly going to go looking for"- Sherlock stopped mid-rant having figured something out.

"What?" John asked

"Taking you out of the flat, telling you not to take the cloth or note out of your pocket until she was gone. Come and get me? Don't you see?"

"I never see until you explain it"

"Me John! She was making sure that I saw her with the gun, that's why she took you out of the flat. She gave you a bandage, so she wasn't trying to kill you; she was merely getting my attention. And the note! You weren't to look at it until she was gone, at which point I would have arrived having already seen her out of the window with a gun. She wants to be found! John, you need to tell me everything you noticed about her. What did she look like? Did she give you any indication as to who she was or what she wanted?"

"Well, she was young."-

"How young?"

"If you would let me finish please! She looked around twenty. She had short black hair, pale skin. Her eyes were."…

"What?"

"They were blue. They were dark, dark blue"

"Yes okay, her eyes were blue. Honestly John you don't need to make things so over dramatic, you just got shot, we get it. So if you could just tell me."-

"Sherlock! I didn't come home from a war to get shot at some more, so excuse me for getting a little worked up over a bullet."

With that, Sherlock took off sprinting in the direction the young female stranger went. Instantly, John regretted his outburst. There was no point in trying to follow Sherlock, he was surprisingly fast, and he was the only one who actually knew whereabouts he was going. So John returned to the flat.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

As Sherlock turned the corner, he managed to catch sight of the young criminal supposedly trying to get his attention running down an alleyway in between two buildings. He followed her in, and slowed down when he reached a dead end. Obviously the only way out was the way he came in, and that was guarded by the very person Sherlock was pursuing. He turned round and was facing her, like an old western dual; except she was the only one with a gun. The young girl cleared her throat and paused before speaking.

"… I thought you would've got here quicker, I don't have much time anyway… I gave your friend John a bandage so you didn't have to wait to make sure he was okay"

"How do you know his name?"

"I've heard of both of you. You catch criminals, right?"

"I'm a consulting detective"

"Yeah, not a very good one. You see, you claim to examine every single little detail to produce a successful investigation. But you sometimes leave out important things, you put them to the back of your head because you're so busy trying to find the answer. You try to overcome every obstacle without help from anyone. Like your friend John, you left him because you were too busy trying to catch me, but you'll need him now, won't you…. And my name's Laura, thanks for asking."

"I didn't ask."

"I know; I was being sarcastic. Not that you would understand."

"How do you know what I would and wouldn't understand?"

"I know so much more about you than you would want me to. I find things out because I'm curious. A lot like you actually. And the only reason you're still here is because you're curious. Too bad, you could have got out of what was coming to you."

Laura pulled a gun from inside her jacket and pointed it at Sherlock. His eyes widened and a shot was fired. Sherlock fell back and hit his head off the wall in the process. He shouted in pain and struggled to get to his feet. He stood hunched over in pain, with a pounding head and a bullet in his shoulder. After attempting to take a few steps forward, Sherlock fell to his knees, dizzy and clutching his shoulder. He looked up in his last few moments of consciousness, and saw Laura still standing there. He saw her drop the gun and stand and stare at him until everything went black.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"Sherlock... Sherlock"

John's muffled voice woke Sherlock with a start. He was in his flat, but how did he get there? He sat up with a jolt, forgetting that he had banged his head off a wall, and instantly felt dizzy again. He grabbed onto the nearest thing he could find to stop himself from falling, which turned out to be John's arm.

"What happened to your shirt? Are you okay?"

"How- how did I get here?"

"I don't know, I came through and you were asleep on the couch"

"I wasn't asleep, I was unconscious."

"What?! What happened? How did you get here then?"

"That's what I wanted to know"

Sherlock got off the couch, refusing help from John, and only just remembering what had happened earlier on. He pulled the right hand side of his shirt off his shoulder. The shirt had a bullet hole in it; that must have been what John meant when he asked what happened to Sherlock's shirt. But his shoulder was bandaged up.

"Wh- what?"

Sherlock checked the back of his head. It was still painful to touch, but it felt clean.

It had been cleaned. By her.

"Laura." Sherlock murmured to himself.

"What?"

"Laura. She- she shot me and I was unconscious, but I ended up here. Bandaged, fixed. But how? How did I get here? She's only young and she couldn't bring me back here without help or attracting attention from everyone. Why did she wait until I was unconscious before she helped me?"

"Maybe she didn't want you to know that she was helping you."

"Well she didn't do a very good job. Why? Why is she doing this?"

For the first time John could remember, Sherlock seemed stumped. Like he hadn't a clue. But he never really had to find out _why_ a criminal would do what they were doing. So why _was_ Laura doing this?

"First you, now me. Clearly she's trying to tell us something."

"You think she could be warning us? Trying to stop us from doing our job?"

"I don't know."

Sherlock Holmes didn't just say he didn't know. If he didn't know what was going on, then everyone was screwed.

Later on, John and Sherlock went out to a cafe for lunch having decided to take a break and give Sherlock a break from nearly dying. Well, John had lunch, Sherlock sat deep in his thoughts. The waitress came over to take their order; John ordered spaghetti Bolognese and, even though he knew the response, proceeded to ask if Sherlock wanted anything. It was the worlds' most pointless question, but Sherlock hadn't spoken a word for half an hour.

"It stimulates brain activity… I think"

"No, thinking stimulates brain activity"

"Thinking _is_brain activity."

This conversation went on for around five to ten minutes, during which the waitress had left, served two other people and, assuming that Sherlock didn't want anything, got John his food, returned with it and stood for another few minutes before sitting the plate down on the table when John finally lost the debate to Sherlock. By this time his food was cold and Sherlock had somehow convinced him that he wasn't hungry, so John went up to the counter and ordered two coffees'. He took them back to the table and he and Sherlock didn't speak for another while as they sipped their coffee. Soon enough, something had to come to Sherlock.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Sherlock and John were silent for another half hour, before deciding to go home. Sherlock could usually make deductions just by looking at the victim, but **he **was the victim, and he already knew everything about himself, obviously. So all that he could do was try to find out why anyone would try and kill him. He decided to sleep on it. John, not Sherlock, and the very next day he awoke to just about the exact same scenario that he was in yesterday. John could see that this must have been troubling Sherlock and he came up with endless suggestions as to what this might be in relation to.

Every so often, John would look up from his laptop and see Sherlock trapped in his own mind trying to come up with a reasonable idea of what was going on. John felt truly sorry for Sherlock, and there wasn't anything he could do. Laura had never even attempted to do this sort of thing before, – which they found out from checking the police records – Lastrade wasn't allowed to know anything about the fact that Laura had taken down the magnificent Sherlock Holmes, because of Sherlock's fear for his pride, and she kept running away every time she got a good shot at them. John decided to leave his co- worker alone with his thoughts to go shopping, meaning Sherlock kicked him out of the house. He had no money, and so had to resort to using Sherlock's.

"Sherlock, what's this?"

"What's what?"

"This." John said unfolding a very familiar looking piece of paper he found in Sherlock's jacket pocket. When it was unfolded John looked at it, and then handed it to Sherlock, who read it aloud.

"_I'm waiting."_

"What does she mean by that?"

"I don't know but that helps us none. She's waiting where? Why doesn't she just say?"

"Well she never seems to be there when we find the notes"

"Or she _can't _be there."

Sherlock put on his jacket and left. John grabbed a jacket of his own and followed Sherlock to wherever he was going. John caught up with Sherlock, who was walking at the pace of a man on a mission.

"Wait, we're not seriously going to traipse the streets looking for a girl who tried to kill us both are we?"

"Don't be stupid John, and don't ask stupid questions, it irritates me. We are going to a specific place to find a girl who shot us both in order to get our attention but not kill us"

"Well she got your attention all right." John mumbled to himself, and then spoke aloud to Sherlock "How do you know where she is though?"

"Because of the references to wolves." John stopped dead in his tracks

"What?"

Soon enough it all became clear. John followed Sherlock down the alleyway that Sherlock had followed Laura the day before. The graffiti on the back wall of the dead end – a picture of a wolf – made John wonder why this young lady was so obsessed with wolves. He saw her leaning against the wall, holding a gun, playing with it almost, and Sherlock began to walk towards her. John felt like reaching out and grabbing his arm to warn him, but he figured that Sherlock knew what he was doing, and let him be.

"Could we possibly talk without the weapons this time?"

"Talking's boring." Laura replied, like a child rejecting a suggestion their parents offer for something to do when there's nothing else entertaining enough to meet the child's needs. She pointed the gun at Sherlock.

"Come on now, I know that you won't shoot me"

"What makes you so sure?"

"Well generally speaking you're not expected to understand how any of this works mainly because you're still a young lady, but what people don't see in girls like you is intellect."

Something deep inside John knew that Sherlock knew what he was doing, and he smirked at what he was watching.

"Take your shoes, they are old and worn out, yet you still wear them, and before they can get to that kind of state you would grow out of them, unless you wore them so often that you didn't notice the difference. The only reason you would wear the same shoes so often was if you went to a school of some sort, in your case a private school, understandable due to your level of knowledge on basic facts that you will learn in school. You still know these things because you stayed at school for a long period of time, therefore you were reminded constantly. You got used to taking orders from people, so much so that when you left school you didn't know what to do with yourself, so when you saw an opportunity to do something, you took it."

"You got all that from my shoes?"

"That and the fact that your finger is nowhere near the trigger, which shows a lack of self-confidence; or you just don't want to shoot me."  
"Of course not, the gun's not loaded. That would be embarrassing, wouldn't it?"

"So the question now is; why would you carry a gun that isn't loaded?"

Laura took a deep breath before beginning to explain

"Why do wolves hunt in packs? Why do they stay close together when they're hunting?"  
"Sorry, why does this keep becoming about wolves?"- John interrupted

"It scares people." As Laura said this John narrowed his eyes, trying to figure out why she would think what she was saying made perfect sense.

"But what about the lone wolf? They can't scare anyone nearly half as much as a whole pack, so what happens to them? The rest of the pack leaves them behind. They fend for themselves because the leader doesn't think they're strong enough, so they are alienated from the group. And do you know what else?"-

"No, and quite frankly I'm beginning to get bored"

"It doesn't matter if the wolf is in a pack or on its own. The fact remains that you can't out run it"

Laura put her gun back inside her jacket, and smiled at them both in such a way that for a split second she seemed unpredictable even to Sherlock Holmes. Until she started running.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**a/n: Not sure why I'm doing my first one of these halfway through the story, but hey-ho! If you're reading the story and enjoying it, I'd appreciate a review. IANO4444, out!**

Sherlock pulled out a gun from his pocket and aimed at Laura, before having his arm grasped by John. Luckily enough, because it only just missed Laura's head as she ducked in mid-run.

"Sherlock, when did you get a gun?"

"I managed to grab it just before I left the flat, why did you stop me from shooting her?

"You can't shoot at a young girl just because she runs away from you!"

As if they'd finished their conversation, John and Sherlock ran after Laura. They chased her to the bottom of the street, and it was a very long street, the turned and ran the length of another fairly long street, before stopping for one gasp of breath, at which point Laura disappeared round the corner.

"The only reason… she gets away with this… is because she seems to… to have the speed and stamina… of a cheetah" John said, half speaking, half panting.

They walked around the corner to see if they could possibly acquire the luck of finding out that Laura had tripped over a shoelace of the trainers that she apparently "wore so often" according to Sherlock, and was lying there vulnerable on the ground, but no such luck. There was no sign of her. But they were to find her very soon, thanks to the piece of folded up blue paper they found sitting on someone's outside windowsill. Sherlock took it impatiently and proceeded to read it.

"_In here."_

Before John could even inquire about what the note said, Sherlock was in the house and making his way swiftly through the rooms. He clearly knew what he was doing, but he was doing it angrily, and this alarmed John with the thought of what would happen if they discovered nothing. Sherlock was very '_in_ _control_' person, but anger has the most unpredictable consequences of any emotion. No sooner had John shut the door behind him did he hear Sherlock interrogating someone.

But it wasn't Laura.

When Sherlock spoke to her, he had a sort of calmness about him, like he didn't want to raise his voice in case he triggered something dangerous, but he had no problem bawling at the top of his lungs with this person. If there was one thing Sherlock Holmes couldn't stand, it was people who wouldn't co-operate. He also had no patience, which didn't help.

"Where is she?! Why did she tell me to come in here?!"

"She did, did she? Well that's just unacceptable. I'll just have to teach her never to let out secrets again."

John frowned at this remark, wondering what this tall, straggly looking man was meaning by "teach her"

"Who are you?"

"Gregory Hansen. I'm in charge of Miss Jones"

"In charge?"

"Yes. Unfortunately she won't be joining us this evening, she's busy with a job she's been asked to do for me. So who are you? Are you the police?"

"Why would we be the police?"

"Well they tend to be the only ones who intrude on people without knocking. Them and drunken relatives"

"Sherlock Holmes, this is my college John Watson"

Gregory's face dropped. The smirk was wiped completely off his face and his eyes grew wide all in less than a second, but he somehow managed to maintain the exact tone of voice

"I'm sorry, you must be mistaken. Are you telling me that the very people that I've sent the little brat out to take care of are not where they should be?" He said this like they had rehearsed where and when Laura was supposed to "take care" of John and Sherlock, and they had messed up the schedule.

"She ran away"

Gregory let out a sigh

"Typical"

"Oh don't look so disappointed, she got a good shot at John and me before taking off"

"There was only one bullet in her gun."

"What?"

"How could she try to shoot you both just there? There was only one bulletin the gun!"

"No, not just now" John contributed "She shot us bot two days ago"

"There is only ever _one bullet in the gun_!" Gregory shouted. It was a loud, booming voice, like the voice a head teacher uses to stop teenagers spray painting the school. He pulled open a drawer of the dresser beside him and took out his own gun.

"Does everybody own a weapon nowadays?" Sherlock asked John, ignoring the fact that Gregory was pointing the gun at him.

"Get out of my house."

"Why did Laura tell me to come in here?" Sherlock inquired, pulling out the note from his pocket and handing it to Gregory, who snatched it and unfolded it ferociously. His eyes could have honestly burned a hole in the middle of the paper. When he was finished, he threw the note on the ground and took a step closer to Sherlock with the gun.

"Get out of my house!"

"First, I want to know why you're using a girl of… how old? Twenty?"

"She's eighteen."

John frowned in confusion and anger. That made matters so much worse

"Right. So why are you using a girl of eighteen, like a puppet… in order to get to us?" Sherlock continued

"She's weak, easily influenced… the rest is classified Mr Holmes. Now get out."

Gregory prodded Sherlock with the gun, which produced quite a force and sent the detective staggering back, and he took a note of this. John entered that house five minutes previously, worried for Sherlock and his lives. He left the house worried for Laura's.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**a/n: so, for those of you who aren't bored yet (and I'm glad about that) I hope you're enjoying my story. Any reviews are appreciated. :-)**

John came home to find Sherlock pacing around the room, and stopping every few seconds to rummage through a pile of stuff in the centre.

"Sherlock, What are you doing?"  
"I'm trying to figure it out. What does she mean by a wolf, when did this have anything to do with wolves?"  
"Maybe she's comparing what she's doing to a pack of wolves."

"What?"

"Never mind."

"But why? She could be looking for something here, or at least something that belongs to me. We've both met her twice in total, and each time she shoots us, but then gives us the resources to spare our lives. What does this have to do with wolves at all?"

Suddenly, Sherlock had an epiphany, remembering something Laura had said during their second encounter.

"_A lone wolf can't scare anyone nearly half as much as a whole pack. People aren't afraid to chase after them." _It was all finally coming together in Sherlock's mind. _"They have to fend for themselves because the leader of the pack doesn't think they're strong enough,"_ His thought's jumped from Laura to Gregory _"She's weak… easily influenced."_

A chill ran down Sherlock's spine as he heard the last remark again. He turned to John

"We have to find her John. She doesn't want something _in _here. She just wants this."

"I don't understand."

"Laura Jones _is _the lone wolf. She's fending for herself, and the threats weren't actually threats."-

"They were cries for help."

"Exactly."

"So we can just tell the police to go to Gregory's house and arrest him"

"No, he's smarter than that. He won't be in his house anymore. Now that he knows Laura's been leaving us clues, he'll be stuck to her like glue. So wherever she is, he'll be. If we're fast enough, we might be able to find her before he does."

"We'll have to be pretty damn fast then."

"_She's smarter than I'd expected. If she does what she's trying to do well enough, no more blood will have to be spilled" _Sherlock thought to himself as he and John left the house.

**a/n: Did you figure it out? Are you enjoying? I won't know unless you tell me. Quite a short chapter, but a lot can happen in a short amount of time you know. I.A.N.O4444 out!**


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

**a/n: So I've decided because that last chapter was _SO _short, I'll be really nice and post another. Enjoy!**

Once again, Sherlock and John were heading through the alleyway where they had encountered Laura before, only this time their motive was different. They weren't entirely sure what was going to happen when they got Laura, but they would find out soon enough.

"You're late"

"We were having a discussion with your 'boss' shall we say? He has a bit of a temper on him"

There was that voice again. The one Sherlock only used when he was speaking to Laura.

"Are you okay?" John asked, sounding concerned

"I was beaten within an inch of my life for leaving you clues then running off, but all in all, I'm just glad you've figured it out"

"So if you needed help, why didn't you just ask?" It was John's turn to do the questioning now.

"He… he scares me"

"Well is it any wonder?" Sherlock spoke up. "A man of thirty-something with a gun and a pretty strong arm who goes around telling people he's 'in charge' of you, decides to send you off looking for two men also older than you and tells you to try to kill them?"

"I thought you said she shot us to get our attention?" John interrupted

"Well yes, _she_did, but that wasn't what Gregory was hoping for. So what we really want to know is why the hell are you working for him?"

"What? Do you think just because you've figured it out that I'm going to tell you everything that went wrong that resulted in me with_ him _as a boss? Well you're wrong; I don't have a problem with him. Okay he gets pretty angry every once in a while, but I can take a punch. I just want you to stop him from making me do this before I do something else I regret. Because I really am going to regret this." Suddenly, Laura took out her gun from inside her jacket and aimed it at Sherlock, who responded with only a smirk.

"You know people are so prone to violence nowadays. Why don't you just put the gun away?"

"I've shot you once, I'll do it again."

"There's only one bullet in the gun. What are you going to do when you're left here with either John or me, depending which one of us you shoot."-

"Sherlock, don't spur her on!" John said, with a voice that sounded either shocked, surprised, scared or all three. Even he couldn't tell what emotions he was going through.

"Okay detective. Why don't you read me like you do everyone else and tell me if I'm lying or not? First a little test. I find you irritating, yes or no?"

"Yes." Sherlock was playing along for reasons best known to him.

"Gregory really does scare me, yes or no?"

"… apparently not."

"Good. So I'm a good liar, yes?"

"Yes"

"Okay then, here's the killer question. Would or would I not shoot you?"

Sherlock's smile faded. John stood dumbfounded at his colleague, a man who knows no fear, put his hands up. He couldn't be surrendering, could he? Suddenly John realised, as he heard a voice that sent a cold chill right through him.

"Well, well, well. Are we going to follow through with our little agreement this time Laura?"

Laura's eyes never left Sherlock, almost like she hadn't even heard Gregory. Sherlock stood frozen with his hands up; carefully studying, and keeping his eyes at all times on the 18 year old pointing a gun at him, almost preventing her from pulling the trigger. Dr Watson stood beside Sherlock, and Greggory stood behind Laura.

"I haven't got all day Miss Jones, so I suggest you kill Mr Holmes and get it over with"

"And if she doesn't?" inquired Sherlock

"I'm afraid the result won't be pretty."

As Greggory said this, Laura's fist clenched. Her jaw tensed, but her hand remained steady and her face stayed stern. She said nothing, even when the man controlling her every move began his countdown.

"Five… four…"

"Well aren't you going to do anything?" John whispered to Sherlock

"She won't shoot."

"How do you know that?"

Sherlock turned to Watson, only for Watson to realise his mistake

"Never mind."

The countdown was nearing its end.

"Three… two…"

"What about Laura?" Watson continued to whisper

"You're a doctor; you'll know what to do."

"What?!"

"One."

For a few seconds, there was silence. It may have been a few seconds, but it felt like hours. After the shot was fired, more silence reigned.

**a/n: Ohh! A cliffhanger, how exciting! Once again reviews are appreciated blah blah blah... *falls asleep***

**Anyway hope you're liking!**


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

As Laura fell to her knees and into a foetal position on the floor, tears streamed down her face. Sherlock fixed his gaze on Greggory, pulled out a gun of his own and proceeded to point it at him.

"I would be careful if I were you Sherlock." Greggory began to slowly walk forward. "You don't want this young lady dying on your conscience do you?"

"She won't die"

"Won't she?"

"No, I'll make sure of it"

"Will you now? Does Sherlock Holmes actually care about someone?"

"I think you'll find caring about someone and making sure they don't die is not the same thing, John."

Sherlock gestured his head to Laura, who at this point has lost quite an amount of blood. Watson knelt by her side and helped her up. She moved painfully slowly, but she and John managed to get out of the way of Sherlock and Greggory, both at gunpoint with each other. Laura sat still and let John examine the wound to the left side of her abdomen.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Just a little light headed."  
"Well you've lost enough blood for one day. Just keep talking."

John took her hand, and as he did this, Laura smiled weakly. She was breathing heavily now, and clearly in a lot of pain, but she managed to hang on.

"There's a piece of cloth in the bag."

Laura tried to get the bag sitting beside her as she said this, but fell unconscious. John grabbed the bag – which neither he or Sherlock had noticed when they first arrived - and rooted round for the material. He looked up at Sherlock and Greggory, who had made no progress whatsoever I their situation.

"I should shoot you now, but I'll bet you know why I'm not going to do that."

"Of course I do. You've only got one bullet left in that gun."

"Very clever!"  
"You never have your gun loaded, because you're afraid that at any point Laura could turn on you and decide to shoot you herself. So you keep your bullets hidden somewhere that she won't find them, but you left in a hurry this time, because you only just found out that your little puppet was asking for help without you realising, which by the way was astonishingly slow. You only had time to put two bullets in your gun, but you wasted one because you got angry with Laura for not doing the dirty work for you. Now if you shoot me, one of these two could easily pick up this gun and kill you."

"But at least you'll be dead as well. You know what would make things a whole lot easier, if you just killed me now"

This scenario particularly confused John. Gregory appeared to be asking Sherlock to kill him. Was he calling his bluff? Would Sherlock actually kill someone? As if answering the questions swirling round in John's head, Sherlock replied to Gregory.

"I prefer not to kill people unless necessary."

"Well then. You've just made things a whole lot easier."

He smacked Sherlock's wrist with the butt of the gun, causing his weapon to fly from Sherlock's hand and skid across the ground. It landed right beside John and Laura. John checked the ammunition in the gun.

No bullets.

Gregory then pointed the gun right slap-bang in the middle of his forehead. Sherlock breathed out through his nose and stared his opponent right in the eyes as Gregory prepared to shoot. John looked back up to the shock of the scene before him


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

**a/n: last chapter, so last chance to review. Hope you've enjoyed the story, thanks!**

John tried to push himself up, but the pain of the bullet wound a couple of days ago struck him suddenly. _Should've gone to a hospital _he thought to himself, and collapsed back to the ground beside Laura. Was this it? Were they all going to be found here dead in a couple of days? John looked over to Sherlock again, who was being lectured by Gregory, but he couldn't tell what he was saying. Beside him, Laura stirred and groaned in pain and John's heart broke just a little at that.

_What was she dragged into? My god how long will this haunt her dreams? She was trying to help Sherlock and me. The bandage, cleaning the wound. Why didn't I see it before? I hope she's okay, I hope nothing happens to Sherlock or Laura or me-_

"Freeze! You're in enough trouble already!"

Sherlock opened his eyes to a sight that he never thought he would be relieved to see. Lastrade stood behind Greggory with a gun also

"There are far too many guns to be seen in this day in age." Complained Sherlock. "Do what you like with him now, he's not my problem."

The consulting detective smirked at the man to whom he was a hostage a few minutes ago. He turned and walked over to Watson and Laura, who was beginning to regain consciousness.

"She'll be alright. Watson observed. "We've got a medical student here."

"Medical student!" repeated Sherlock. "Why didn't I see that?"

Laura awoke, and almost forgot that she was injured. She stood up and almost collapsed again, but luckily Sherlock caught her and helped her stand up. John got up as well and put her arm around his neck so she could walk without falling. Laura didn't start walking though, and her feet didn't budge. She just put her head down and cried. Her legs started shaking, so Sherlock and John waited patiently for her to calm down, before proceeding to walk.

"It's okay, you'll be fine now; it's all over."

Sherlock's attempts to calm Laura down seemed to work, as she lifted her head, and her breathing returned to a normal pace. She turned to face Sherlock.

"Thank you for keeping me safe"

"Safe? He might have killed you!" John interrupted.

"I put my trust in both of you to figure out what I was trying to tell you and to stop me from killing anyone; and I haven't trusted anyone since the first guy I worked for left. He said he knew you as well you know. You're pretty infamous among these guys, but you're too smart for them."

When Sherlock and John got outside, they sat Laura down in the back of the ambulance.

"What are you going to do now then?" John asked

"I don't know, but I'll be okay. Sherlock said so himself." Holmes smirked as Laura made this remark. "Like I said, he's too smart for people like Greggory. If the leader of this pack I keep referring to ever finds you, he'll have his work cut out for him."

Holmes and Watson left the ambulance and Laura was taken to hospital, but Sherlock's strides slowed to a halt. John stopped also.

"What?"

"If the leader of the pack ever finds me"- Sherlock muttered to himself. "If the **leader of the pack **ever- Greggory wasn't the boss?"

They turned back, both of them going to ask Laura who the "leader of the pack" actually was, but the ambulance was gone. They may never know, or they could find out the hard way.


End file.
